


Cherish the Present

by TriplePirouette



Category: Captain America (Movies), Outlander (TV)
Genre: Crossover, F/M, POV Outsider, Steggy Week 2020
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-24
Updated: 2020-07-24
Packaged: 2021-03-05 01:15:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,769
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25495939
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TriplePirouette/pseuds/TriplePirouette
Summary: Claire Randall encounters the 107th quite often now, and has even befriended Peggy Carter. But she can’t quite figure out the relationship between Steve and Peggy.  Written for Steggy Week Day 5: Outside POV. Also an Outlander Crossover.
Relationships: Peggy Carter/Steve Rogers
Comments: 8
Kudos: 52





	Cherish the Present

**Author's Note:**

> For Steggy Week ’20 on Tumblr Day 5: Outside POV. I hated the first thing I wrote for this prompt. Hated it. And it would have written me in a tight corner I didn’t know how to get out of if I ever managed any traction on the re-write of Agent Carter Season 2 for my Tactical Insertions AU. So I came up with this in bed last night and nearly made myself late for work this morning. Oops. 
> 
> If you don’t know anything about Outlander, all you need to know for this story is Claire Randall is a nurse and she has a husband named Frank. 
> 
> Title from a Claire Randall quote from Season 1, Ep 1of Outlander: “The war had taught me to cherish the present because tomorrow might not ever come to pass.”

It was always a flurry of limbs and screams when rescued men returned with the 107th. The medical tent always endeavored to be ready, but they constantly managed to surprise Claire Randall with something new. 

There were the average injuries: the bullet wounds, the trench foot, the breaks, sprains and scrapes… She always had as many splints and bandages laid out as she could, and kept the amputation tools hidden near by. 

When other missions brought back men they were quiet: small groups from tactical strikes trickling in a few at a time that she could triage and treat easily. When the 107th and the Howling Commandos, led by Captain America, rescued men, it was by the dozens or hundreds. 

She heard he once rescued nearly 500 men in one day and she was damn glad she hadn’t been in that medical tent. 

The first time they’d heard the 107th was coming to her base she’d laughed at everyone’s excitement. The men from the newsreels? A Joke. Real people did real work and a brightly colored shield wouldn’t protect anyone out here and she said as much to anyone who would listen. 

Claire decided, very quickly upon their return with over 75 men from the bowels of an encampment, that she was very, very wrong. The 107th didn’t just drop the men at her feet and leave, patting themselves on the back and chatting about what a good job they had done while walking away. They stayed, talked to the men that were waiting for treatment and needed distraction. They fetched her and the other nurses water and towels. They helped the doctors hold down men that needed to lose limbs. They stood and said prayers over men that didn’t make it. 

When the tent was finally quiet, she went up to each man and the one woman, and thanked them for their help and humanity. 

That was how Claire Randall became the favorite nurse of the 107th Howling Commandos, and made a friend in Peggy Carter. 

It was hard making friends during the war. People bonded, people held tight to those things around them as everything was crumbling, but true friends were in short supply. When the 107th was in town she and Peggy always managed to find some time to escape the base and bond over a drink, to talk about life, the men they loved, and what they’d do when the war was over and women weren’t as needed as they were now and they were both likely to be out of a job. 

It was nice to talk to someone who understood and shared her ambition and drive. 

Claire loved to talk about Frank and Peggy eagerly listened, but rarely reciprocated. She never denied that she and Steve had feelings for one another and often quite easily shared small tidbits about walks they’d take together or a quiet moment they were able to share. When asked about the future, though, Peggy clammed up. 

Claire thought, at first, that maybe they weren’t something that would last long term, but she knew she was wrong about that nearly every time she saw them together. Steve’s eyes lit up and Peggy’s shone with happiness. They would smile more. They were quite like teenagers in love: doing their best to play it off but unable to stay away from the addictive rush of the other. 

When they were working together they flowed. She couldn’t help but notice their movements were like a dance. She’d anticipate his needs and be ready for whatever he thought the next step was, and he’d know just what she needed be right behind her when she reached her hand out for it. Claire had never caught them out of sync with one another. 

Dugan laughed at her when she’d mentioned that to him one day while he sat across from her, in her tent for what appeared to be no more than a splinter. 

“In sync?” He tried pulling his finger away from her probing needle, but she held him firm. “Next time he’s in, ask Howard Stark about the time she shot at Steve from three feet away. Ow!”

Claire grabbed his hand back from where he’d pulled it to his chest. “Baby,” she muttered, resuming her searching. “You know, you could have taken this out yourself.”

Dugan smiled brightly. “Then I wouldn’t see your shining face, or get your sparkling conversation!” He leaned forward, all mirth and no bite, “Tell that husband of yours to watch out.”

Claire smiled. “Frank can handle himself just fine. Now as you were... more chin wagging and less complaining!”

“Right, right,” he jumped again as she caught the edge of the wood with her needle. “Well, there was the time Peg took the Jeep and left him to walk back to camp five miles, in the snow, because he put his foot in his mouth.”

Claire looked up, eyes wide. “What did he say?” She returned immediately to her project, holding his finger tight, “And stop squirming, I’ve almost got it.”

“I’m trying,” he muttered. “Neither of them would tell us. But Barnes and Morita caught ‘em making out behind the munitions tent later that night, so your guess is as good as mine.” 

Dugan let out a high-pitched squeal as Claire dug the splinter out from his finger. She held it up and smiled with triumph, which was replaced immediately with a scowl when she saw Dugan’s hand in his mouth. “Out with it.”

“No,” he mumbled around his finger. 

She reached for the iodine and a bandage. “You know what comes next.”

Like a chided child, he held out his hand and flinched back. “Make it quick.”

She did, and in order to keep him from immediately pulling off the bandage, she made him tell her more stories of the heroics of the Howling Commandos. 

It seemed every time the 107th was in her base they managed to pull of some great feat. And though they weren’t boastful, these boys did enjoy telling some of the more fantastical stories. It amazed her, how tirelessly they worked to save the men around them. Steve and Peggy? They worked the hardest. 

Claire was amazed at how they could hide how they felt when they were working. She never got more than a glimpse of smiles or lit up eyes during the day. She never found them snogging or going for a leisurely walk together as the sun was setting. She only ever saw the passing of files, the rapid-fire exchange of information as they bounced from one tent to the other, and the way they cared for the injured men they brought in. If Peggy hadn’t told her about those walks or mentioned the stolen kisses, Claire would have been hard pressed to say she had evidence of anything much really going on. 

Today, they’d rescued about three dozen men, most simply dehydrated. Without words, Steve and Peggy had been back to the infirmary in seconds with canteens full of potable water, handing them out and refilling them without having to be asked. 

She watched as Steve stuck his hand out and without him even having to look for it, another canteen would be in his palm. Peggy somehow had her eyes on everyone at once and alerted a nurse about a bleeding man losing consciousness three beds over without ever missing a beat in handing Steve a fresh canteen from the dozen or so slung over her shoulders. 

Claire was amazed, as she always was, at how well they worked together. She let her mind focus on her work, debriding a nasty gash on a thankfully unconscious man, and vowed to finally ask Peggy about how they managed it tonight. 

She was on her way to shower off and get changed, taking the long way around to avoid stares at her bloodied clothing, when she stopped short around the side of the laundry tent, hearing people talking just beyond her and around the corner of the tent. 

“You’re not listening to what I’m saying,” Steve sounded exasperated and tired. 

Peggy didn’t miss a beat, her voice as irritated as Steve’s. “And you haven’t listened to me all day. If you’d have taken just two minutes, two, to cover me I would have had their next position and we wouldn’t be scrambling to find them now.”

Claire didn’t move, entranced as Steve huffed. “You don’t know that!”

Peggy’s voice rose just under a shout. “And you don’t know that I wouldn’t have!”

His voice dropped low, dangerous, and quick. “Ok, I don’t know that. But what I did know was that we had two five-man teams closing in on our position from opposite sides and we were going to lose our way out.”

“We’ve lost our way out before-“

He didn’t let her interruption stop him, “We were going to get cut off from-“

She stopped him with a yell. “You don’t know that!”

“But it wasn’t worth the risk!” He raised his voice right back at her. 

Claire peeked around the corner, and Steve was pacing away from her rubbing his eyes. She was stoic, her lips pressed tight together and breathing heavy through her nose. 

He took two quick strides back to her and bent to look her in the face, voice quiet and just a little of the former fight gone. “No, Peg, I don’t know that any of that would have happened. And you don’t know you would have gotten their position either. But you know what I did know?”

Her fight left just a bit, too, as she mirrored his emotions, “What?”

“That the choice was get the information, or put you in a dangerous position.”

Claire could have told Steve that would have been the wrong thing to say, and she watched unsurprised as Peggy’s hackles rose again. “You damn well know that I can handle anything-“

He interrupted her, loud enough that someone else must have heard them. “Fuck, Peg!” Steve paced away and to her three times, trying to burn off his energy before he spoke again, voice low and frustrated. “I know, ok? I know you can shoot better than I can and you can do more push ups than Dum Dum and that you can drink Dernier under the table. You got along just fine before me and you’ll do damn well without me. I know you can handle yourself.” She nodded, tight, slightly mollified at his admission. “But it doesn’t matter, because if it was you, or Murphy, or Collins, or any other damn SSR agent my orders are to bring you back alive. Don’t be mad at me that I didn’t give you special treatment this time. I would have made the same call if anyone else was there. Man, woman, whatever.” He walked away, shoulders sagging as he dropped his chin to his chest. 

He kept his back to her, and Claire wondered just exactly what expression on his face he was trying to hide. She was flabbergasted. She couldn’t even imagine these two fighting before today, and yet she’d witnessed it with her own two eyes. 

Peggy was the first to break, her voice soft and her eyes full of hurt. “I suppose I owe you an apology.”

“Don’t,” he murmured, not turning around. 

She sniffed, cleared her throat, and walked until she could reach up and put her hand on his shoulder. “I’m sorry, Steve.”

He still didn’t turn, but he looked up so she could hear him clearly. “One of these days, I’m going to have to make a call that’s gonna leave you in danger. It’s gonna get you hurt, or killed, and I’m going to have to live with that.” Peggy’s hand gripped his shoulder just a little tighter, but she didn’t say anything. “Please try to stop being mad at me for keeping you safe.”

As Peggy let her forehead fall between Steve’s shoulder blades and wrapped her arms around him from the back, Claire slipped back the way she came. Some things really were private, and better left that way. 

Claire managed to walk through the camp without many stares, her mind on what she’d just seen. She understood Peggy. She understood that impetus to not be smothered, to not be babied. She understood the need to stand on your own and be seen for what she had and could accomplish, not just what those around her thought of her. Claire stripped and showered, her mind still on the two… Lovers? Paramours? What could she call them if they hadn’t even labeled it? 

She couldn’t get out of her mind the way Peggy hadn’t even flinched when Steve got in her face, angry and upset. He was Captain America, one of the strongest men, if not the strongest man, in the world. And yet she’s stood her ground, knowing that even though he was angry he wasn’t going to hurt her. Claire tried to imagine how she’d deal with it if Frank ever tried that with her, if he ever got that close and was that angry, and she couldn’t fathom how Peggy hadn’t even flinched, never mind didn’t move back. 

And yet, it fit. It fit with the way Peggy had curled around Steve at the end, her arms wrapped around him and head against his back. The way he turned his back on her and hadn’t even glanced behind to see that she was still there before talking. 

Trust. 

Under it all, they trusted one another. 

Claire dried herself and put on a new uniform, still trying to figure out why that word just set right when thinking about them. She walked to the mess, repeating it in her mind. 

They trusted one another. They trusted the other would be there with a file, or a canteen, or a smile. They trusted one another enough not to call them out in the field but to battle it out afterwards. They trusted the other to not hurt them, physically or emotionally, though it looked like that last one was inevitable. 

When she got to the mess, it was mostly empty except for a table full of newly minted privates at the front and the Howling Commandos crowded together at the back. She was going to grab a plate and sit in the opposite corner, alone with her thoughts, when she found Barnes at her elbow, steering her to their table. “You’re sitting with us, Ma’am.”

“Randall!” Morita called out as Barnes brought her close. “You’re gonna be seeing Dugan later with all the bellyaching he’s doing now!”

“Ha ha,” Claire was less than amused, “You gentleman will stay out of my tent for one day in a row, please.” She took the offered chair from Pinky and slid into it as the rest of them scooted closer to give her some room. 

“Won’t happen,” Peggy laughed, shifting along with the rest of them. Claire pretended not to notice that Peggy’s hand slipped up from under the table, in a position where it could only have been on Steve’s knee. No one else seemed to flinch, either. And while space was at a minimum, Peggy didn’t need to be sitting quite so close to Steve, and he definitely didn’t need to lift his arm over her shoulders so she could plaster herself against him. “Once they decide they like you, they never leave you alone.”

“Now that is true,” Dugan admitted. 

As she ate her dinner, enjoying the banter and general joviality of the small group, she noticed that they were tucked at the back of the mess in a particular way she’d seen them squished back here before. Dugan, Barnes, Falsworth, and Jones made an impressive wall of men with their backs towards the rest of the mess. The rest of the men pulled a tight curve, and Steve and Peggy were at the back. Thinking back on it, she’d never noticed Peggy eating with them before, and it seemed that was quite by design. She’d always wondered why they’d squished such big men at such a small table. Steve and Peggy were snuggled close, his left arm looped around her hip so she could eat easily with her right hand. They shared soft glances, and no one flinched when Peggy offered Steve the last piece of what was supposed to be Salisbury steak from her own fork. 

Peggy and Steve didn’t just trust each other; they trusted this whole group. It was quite like a little family. 

And now, it seemed, they trusted her.


End file.
